Strangers and Magi
by Cass-The-Nerd
Summary: Sometimes you just get dealt a shitty deck in life, Shaylyn Carpenter was one of those people. Shaylyn is 22 now, and she has a couple of years before she has to give up and become the proper heiress. Take over the company, get married to a man of the Carpenters' choosing, and live the rest of her life in their claws. However, there is another option, but it's not ideal.
1. Let Me Tell You a Story

It's hard to think how much I've changed. Before I had never imagined myself as a mother, or wife, or leader. I never thought of myself as more than a pawn. In the Carpenters' game. In Flemeth's. It didn't matter really, I was content to be pushed around another person's chess board and pretend that I didn't care. Now, though, now I don't think I could go back to earth, back to my little bubble of ignorance. But all of that aside, this is my story. Daughter, sister, wife, lover, leader, none of those titles matter. Some may even call my story one of self-discovery, or about family, or friendship, or just of a young girl trying to find her way in the world. It is also one about magic, dragons, and my favorite: meddling immortal assholes.

It sounds crazy, I know. I lived it, but I wish I could make something this ridiculous up. Never in my wildest dreams could I make this shit up. I lived through it all. I grew, I broke, I was put back together piece by piece. I grieved, I was betrayed. I gained the power to bring the world to its knees.

The entire world rallied around me, and I hated every minute of it. I live by a strange form of luck, the kind of luck that makes you want to both curse and thank Andraste and the Maker and whatever other deity was out there. It probably runs in my blood, because my siblings were no less extraordinary. We were all the kind of people who couldn't sit by and watch the world crumbled, we had to use our blood, sweat, and tears to hold it all together.

Now, I want to set the record straight. I want to make sure that everyone knows the truth, no matter what Varric says about me in his books. The hardest part is the beginning, because there are a hundred places I could begin this story. I could start it when I was born, but anything up until I was 10 would be patchy at best and completely made up at worst. It would be filled with holes where there are no memories. There would be places where I am not sure if what I remember is true or if it is something I made up in a desperate attempt to remember my childhood. I could start it when I was 10, when I landed on earth and became a whole new person. But I was a kid, and nothing really mattered to me then.

I have the perfect place. Now that I think about it, this is the only time that makes sense.

I am Shaylyn and my story starts here.

* * *

I hummed to myself as the credits rolled on my television screen for the 8th time. The now familiar words of I'm Not Calling You a Liar played through the room. Part of me couldn't stop myself from singing along.

"There's a ghost in my lungs and it sighs in my sleep

Wraps itself around my tongue as it softly speaks

Then it walks, then it walks with my legs

To fall, to fall, to fall at your feet"

The song finishes off and my singing stops, the apartment falling quiet. A shiver passed over me at the now eerie feeling, and I quickly moved to turn on some music or something to fill the silence. The chill, however, was not coming from the emptiness of my apartment, but from the open window. It was a strangely cold April, and pulling out my phone made me realize just how cold it was. Currently, it was -1 degree outside, putting it just 2 degrees above the record cold for the month. A layer of frost had made its home on my window, and I couldn't help beauty admire the strange beauty of the tendrils. I shook the thought out of my head and went back to what I had been doing for what seemed like the past week.

Returning to my desk, which had become a mess of paper and pencils, with my computer sitting in the middle. It was ordered chaos, everything in a place but none of those places having any rhyme or reason. I was in a strange sense panic, trying my best to get my feet off the ground. A small buzz was heard from elsewhere, making me scramble to figure out where I left my damn phone.

It turns out it was on my sofa, which actually makes a lot of sense, since I was there not even 10 minutes ago. Unlocking the phone led to a display, the display that led to this whole scramble.

 **1286 days**

Which may seem like a long time, but it was only 3 years and a couple of months.

 **3 years, 6 months, 7 days**

Ah, yes. Exactly 3 years, 6 months, 7 days before I had to be a completely self-sufficient adult or would be doomed to a job I couldn't stand, a marriage I did not agree to, and would be forever trapped in the claws of the Carpenters. To most people, it might seem like a blessing, but the Carpenter's don't care about me. I'm just a pawn in their game.

Another buzz, this time a text message.

Lena: How's the job hunt going

I sighed, Lena was a good friend, and a constant rock while I had to complete my obligatory quest for my freedom. I met her a couple years back on the internet, when I was a stupid 20-year-old and thought I knew everything. She's actually the one that bought me the first two Dragon Age games. I'm glad for her support, otherwise, I probably would've given up already.

Shay: Not well…

Shay: Another rejection, at this rate I'll have to give up and go crawling back to the king and queen.

She was quick to respond as always, giving me another dose of her endless optimism.

Lena: Don't give up yet, I'm sure someone will recognize your brilliance eventually

I sigh, and set the phone down, walking out onto the balcony. It's cold, and I shiver. I'm not quite sure why it's so cold in the middle of April, but part of me likes it. The colder it is, the longer I can take picture of frost and snow, and those tend to be some of my favorite.

"This is not the life that you were destined for, but you have adapted well, and you shall adapt again"

I heard the voice behind me, and I jumped, started out of my revelry with the shock of a voice I had only heard in games. I turned around, half expecting that I had imagined the entire thing. There she was, in all her slightly terrifying glory, Flemeth. I wanted to say something, I really did, but I was just frozen.

"I nudge history when it's required. This time, a shove is needed."

I was backing away from her, from her and her aura. It felt wrong and unnatural. I was pushed back against the railing of my balcony, terrified. She was right in front of me now. Suddenly, her words sank in, and I wanted to be anywhere else in the world.

She was right, a shove was needed. A shove that had me falling from the 16th story of my apartment building.


	2. I'm Positive This Isn't Pavement

I was falling.

I was going to die.

I was _going to die._

Everything felt slow. It was like my brain was processing everything too quickly. I willed my eyes shut, mostly in hopes that when I opened them, this would all just be a horrific dream. Because that's all this could be. There was no way in hell that I was falling to my death. There was absolutely no way that I was falling to my death because a character from my favorite video games franchise had pushed me off the balcony.

Things like that don't happen in real life.

Things like that only happen in bad fanfiction.

 _My life is not a bad fanfiction._

The last thing I had expected, however, was to land in a water. It wasn't still freshwater, like a lake. It was moving, and when it got into my mouth, something was very, very wrong.

Saltwater.

There was salt water in my mouth.

I was going to drown.

How on earth did I go from falling through the air to drowning?

 _My god, stop thinking and swim, you moron. You are going to die if you don't do something soon you idiot._

I was kicking, but it felt like it wasn't doing any good. How far did I sink? There were black spots swimming in my vision now. My whole body felt heavy, I didn't have enough body strength to keep doing this indefinitely.

After what felt like forever, I finally broke the surface. Just as I managed to get in a gasp of air, I was pushed back under. I tried to reorient myself when I broke the surface again, but I couldn't see anything. The sun was reflecting off the water, shining right into my eyes and blinding me. It was getting harder and harder to keep myself above water.

I had to have swallowed more than one gulp of water at this point, and I could feel the light-headedness sinking in. I knew that this was a losing battle, I wouldn't have enough strength to keep kicking forever. At this point, unless I was saved by boaters or managed to be near enough to shore to drift over, I would drown or die from drinking the salt water. Part of me could even hear my old health teacher reading the passage of the effects of saltwater on the human body.

 _"The body tries to compensate for the fluid loss by increasing the heart rate and constricting blood vessels to maintain blood pressure and flow to vital organs. You're also most likely to feel nausea, weakness, and even delirium. If you still don't drink any water to reverse the effects of excess sodium, the brain and other organs receive less blood, leading to coma, organ failure and eventually death."_

This is how my life ends. A year of fighting to be free and I die from drowning? Falling? Magic? I'm not sure anymore but I know I'm going to die. Another wave, this one feeling more vicious than all the other washed over and knocked all the air out of my lungs. My brain had long since given up fighting it, too tired to continue moving my limbs, which were heavy as lead and cold as ice. My body, however, kept fighting, flailing my arms and legs wildly. I wanted them to stop, I wanted to still them and sink into the deep dark water. It was harder to not fight than it was to give up, though, with my lungs screaming out for air.

I could feel it now, the heavy blanket falling over me. Alluring and peaceful, but somewhere deep down it just felt wrong. It was crushing and horrifying, and the will to fight struck back up, much to my dismay. Without thinking, I tried to breathe and got water instead. My heartbeat had slowed, I could feel it beating unnaturally slow. Thump… Thump… Thump… The panic was gone now, my head was clear. There was nothing but the cold and dark anymore.

* * *

The first thing I did when I regained consciousness was vomit. Salty, watery, vomit. It went on and on until all the water was out of my stomach and then I hacked up all the water in my lungs. I wish I was better when all that was done, but my limbs still felt like lead. My head was all fuzzy and my heartbeat was jumping all around.

I felt like I had just been pulled out of Hell, which was probably not that far from the truth. The logical side of my brain knew that I was lucky to be alive. I knew that I had survived the odds and managed to not drown, even though I should be long dead, that I probably would be dead if I didn't get help soon.

It was all very bright; the sun was beaming down on where I was. My head was not clearing up. It was like there was a thick smoke inside, preventing me from forming complete thoughts. Trying to blink and swallow wasn't working either, both my eyes and throat burned from the effort.

 _You should have realized it sooner; did you forget your batteries?_

Of course, I just nearly drowned in the sea and have been sitting in the sun for who knows how long.

 _You did figure it out, I thought the hamster in your wheel died while you were sunbathing._

I was dehydrated, and I wasn't sure how much longer I would make it if I didn't get help. Considering that I could barely move my limbs this was a long shot and was highly unlikely to happen. If I somehow managed to survive falling from the 16th story.

 _Was that real? Is this real? I'm starting to wonder what the hell happened. I landed in the ocean and nearly drowned._

I managed to survive falling from the sky and drowning in the ocean, and I was going to die from dehydration. I was going to pass out and I was going to waste away here. I wonder if the Carpenter's would weep for me or would they just be sad that they didn't get a return on their investment in me. What about my birth parents? Did they care about me or was abandoning me in the city a way to get rid of an unwanted child? What did I do that made them want to abandon a ten-year-old? The worst part is that I'll never get to know since I never managed to recover my memories of the first ten years of my life. That is my biggest regret.

As my vision blacked out, I absentmindedly grabbed the golden 'G' hanging from my neck. I find it kind of funny that even with a necklace that had to be the first letter of my name, I chose Shaylyn. It seems silly now, to pick a new name when I could have been close to my real one. It's such a silly story now. Little 10-year-old me constantly insisting that I was a hawk. I took the name because one of the nurses suggested it.

" _You need a name, you know."_

" _Huh?"_

" _Well, I don't know about everyone else, but I won't call you 'that girl' or 'the amnesiac' forever. You need an actual name, and since you refuse to tell people or cannot remember what your name is, you need to choose a new one."_

" _What if I don't want one?"_

" _Everyone needs a name, sweetie, it's an essential part of ourselves, how we distinguish ourselves from others."_

" _You are you and I am me, that is obvious, we are already distinguished from other people, it's not hard."_

" _You still need a name, at least because everyone else needs something to call you."_

" _Fine, I am hawk."_

" _No, a hawk is a bird, you are a person."_

" _I am a hawk, I know that."_

" _No, you are a girl, and you need a name."_

" _I am a hawk, you cannot change that."_

" _What about that necklace you have? Your name probably started with a G, you can pick another G name if you want."_

" _I'm hawk, that is my name."_

 _The nurse must have gotten frustrated with my stubbornness at that point because she didn't come back until a week later. She didn't even start with a greeting, just right off the bat with a name._

" _What about Shaylyn, Shay for short."_

 _I looked up from what I was doing, stared her straight in the eyes, and gave her the same response that I already did._

" _I am hawk."_

" _I know that! That's what Shay means, you know, hawk. Shaylyn means beautiful hawk, and I think that it fits quite well."_

" _You think that I'm beautiful?"_

" _Not yet, sweetheart, but when you're older, you will be the most beautiful girl."_

" _Yes."_

" _I'm sorry? What?"_

" _My name is Shaylyn now, I like it."_

" _Ah, okay then Shaylyn, I have to go now, but I'll be back as soon as I can."_

" _Good, you're nice"_

 _I could just make out the subtle smile on her lips as she walked away._

I was just as stubborn then as I was now, if not more so. I was never going to give that hawk thing up, so I'm glad she came up with a nice alternative.

I should have known unconsciousness was coming soon, as now I could no longer hear the waves and the wind. I just wanted peace, it was my one wish now. At this point, the blackness was peace, and I welcomed it with open arms.


	3. It Was Just Supposed to Be a Simple Job

All Marian Hawke ever wanted to do was protect her family. That was her job, she always knew it would be. Her father made her swear it to him, he made her promise that she would keep them safe. Sadly, she seemed to fail miserably at every turn. Even when she was a kid, she couldn't protect her younger sister, she didn't know why she thought that she could protect the twins. She had the audacity to think that the twins were safe, that they could stay in Lothering and everything would be okay. Then the Blight happened. Then Carver charged the ogre before she could stop him. Maybe Mother was right. Everything that happened to the family was her fault. It was her job to protect them and she failed.

Of course, life wouldn't just give her a break. She failed again, she worked so hard to regain the family fortune, to protect Bethany. She took every odd job that was available, she earned the 50 sovereigns needed to fund the stupid expedition and then some extra to make sure that Mother and Bethany had the coin to feed themselves since she couldn't count to Gamlen to do more than be a useless piece of thieving, gambling trash.

She should have paid more attention to the Templars, to what they were saying about her. She should have noticed that they were suspicious, that they knew something about her sister. Maybe it's true what they say, that you can try your best but you won't succeed. She had felt more alone than ever since Bethany went to the Circle. Bethany was rock, a constant, and she needed her around to remember why she was still fighting. All she had now was a broken promise to her father on his deathbed and a mother who seemed to forget that she was a Hawke.

It seemed silly, in a way, she was never alone, not with her little entourage. They had asked for help, and she was willing to provide, to take on their problems. They were her reason to fight now, and she wouldn't let anything happen to them.

There was her sweet and innocent Dalish blood mage, who was too cute for words but dabbled in things that she could never understand.

She had her slightly-broody slightly-charming apostate, who may or may not be possessed and needed to be reminded to eat when he got too into his crusade.

She had her sultry pirate, who she has totally thought about sleeping with on more than one occasion.

She had her silver-tongued dwarf, who was better at lying than she would ever be. Who had gotten her out of more than one sticky situation, including her poverty.

She had her mostly broody elf, with completely justified issues and who wore spikes and in Varric's words, was like 'an angsty porcupine'. He also might glow when angered.

And then there was Aveline, who kept her on the straight and narrow as much as humanly possible. Who would pull her back from the brink of the abyss when she was about to fall in. It was Aveline's fault that they were out there to begin with anyway. Some job or another that was too messy for her guardsmen. The kind of job that was handled off the books, but still in a way that Aveline could control. Hawke was too tired to remember all the details, probably because she was half awake when she agreed. Hawke had been exhausted since she had started the fight to reclaim the family estate. Honestly, she was half positive that this job was something concocted by Aveline to gets Hawke's mind off politics and for Aveline to stop thinking about the mess that Jeven had left her to take care of.

Honestly, Hawke didn't mind all that much. Even though the wounded coast is Hawke's least favorite place in existence. She hated this place with all her heart. It was all sand and rock and dead plants. Every other turn leading to a dead end and everything looking the same after about 10 minutes of walking around. It spoke a lot of her friendship with Aveline to come out here without complaining. Aveline was a constant in Hawke's years in Kirkwall, and she couldn't be more grateful that she had run into them while fleeing Ostagar. Aveline had been a constant, and anchor to keep her from falling into despair. Someone to keep her on the straight and narrow as much as possible. The kind of person to keep her from burning down the gallows to get to her sister.

A sudden stop had everyone stumbling behind her.

"What the-"

It was a girl, soaking wet with a mop of twisted and tangled black hair the contrasted against her porcelain skin. Everyone was dumbstruck, the appearance of the pallid girl a deviation from what was planned. Anders was the first of the bunch to shake off this daze, and rushed over to see what he could do for the poor girl.

Attempting to get her water by slowly nursing it down her throat. After making sure she wasn't going to die on the spot, he began to check her over. His brows were furrowed, and the glow from his hands casting unnatural shadows. Hawke was the second one of the bunch to get her feet to work, and though she was not gifted with magic like her sister, she did know enough to aid Anders.

The first thing Marian did was pry her hand off the necklace, and the very sight of the jewelry had her face losing all color and a small choked noise making it out of her throat. As quickly as she could, she tucked the offending jewelry into her shirt, as to not attract attention from her companions.

They knew her too well however, and they had learned all her ticks after following her around for a year. Aveline was the one to speak up, her words tinged in a type of concern that only Aveline ever seemed to have. It was the type of concern that could only be found after you escaped a darkspawn horde and watched the others loved ones die.

Hawke felt that tinge of shame, she kind she felt whenever she thought of her biggest failure and remembered that it was her family's best kept secret. The kind she wasn't sure she'd ever be prepared to reveal.

Eye contact was made with Anders, a silent question that was met with a silent shake of the head.

"Are you sure?"

"Not here, maybe if I got her back to my clinic, but not here."

"We can't take her through the main gates of the city and into Darktown, everyone would think that we kidnapped her, money or no."

"And you're being naïve to think that the main gate is the only way into the city. I know you know that there is more than one way into the city."

Anders' comment was met with a chorus of groans, because, yes, there are other ways into the city, and no, none of them are pleasant.


	4. What the Actual Fuck

You know the feeling when you wake up and don't want to move because everything is too comfortable, that was me this morning. I had the strangest dream and I didn't really want to forget it just yet. I normally didn't dream of anything in particular but this time Flemeth was there. I got pushed out a window and then drowned.

Hey, I never said it was a pleasant dream, just unusual.

But the longer I stayed there the more the outside world poked into my consciousness. I couldn't hear the sound of the air conditioner or the general bustle of the city below. Everything about the sheets was wrong. I slept under like seven blankets that were heavy enough to suffocate a small child, but I was under some sort of sheet and nothing else. I normally slept in a simple t-shirt, and a pair of panties, however as I pulled back the sheet covering me, I could see that I was now wearing what I could only describe as a frilly white nightmare.

The long white layered nightgown made me look like some sort of virgin sacrifice. The light pink ribbons down the front and around the cuffs giving me a baby doll feel. I may love looking as feminine as possible but the aforementioned virgin sacrifice feel was weirding me out.

The room was entirely dark, I couldn't find a lightswitch anywhere. I quick peek under the heavy drapes showed that it was the middle of the night outside.

Everything about this place was wrong, there were no lights or cars outside, it was some sort of square, like I was in one of those cities that preserved their history.

I took a deep breath in and quickly exhaled.

Even the air is wrong here.

A few cautious steps forward and a stumble over the slightly too long hem of the nightgown, I made it out into the hall. It opened up to a view of the downstairs area

I paused, did I really want to do this, did I want to risk angering whoever had brought me here? It appeared the decision was made for me, because I could hear the heavy footfalls of someone on the tile floor and panicked.

I tried to backup, to retreat into the room I had came from, but tripped over the nightgown and banged my head on the floor, causing a clatter that caught the mystery person's attention.

The footsteps accelerated and before I knew it, I was looking up into the face of one Marian Hawke.

* * *

I screamed. I wasn't proud of it but I screamed like a child at someone who only wanted to help me up.

That is a first impression I'll never live down.

To her credit, she was calm, and, once I stopped shrieking, more than willing to help me up. Everything felt real, from the calloused texture of her hands to the the pain now radiating along my side.

I didn't want to believe it. It couldn't possibly be real. But my brain was nagging me with that feeling that this was right, I didn't have the words to explain the feeling but it had helped me make choices before. I wanted to trust it. Either way, I needed to be calm now, I could freak the fuck out later.

"What-"

I cut myself off, voice croaking from disuse. Clearing my throat I tried again.

"What happened to me? How did I get here?"

"You washed up on the wounded coast, my friends and I found you while we were out. I know a healer who helped you, but he couldn't keep you in his clinic. I offered."

"Why? You could have easily let me die"

"That's not what I'm about, I don't let people die for no reason."

Her eyes flickered up and down my face, betraying her lie, halting on the golden chain that peeked out under my collar.

What did she see in me? Did I remind her of someone?

I shook my head banishing the thoughts to be considered later. She was lying about her reasons for bringing me into her home and I was going to have to lie about my past.

Whatever happened next, I had to pull this next lie off. It would essentially be the difference between life and death

That's a little dramatic don't you think

Shut up, me. This world is different and I will probably die if I get kicked out.

"Well, you've cause plenty a ruckus and I'm far too tired to continue this discussion, so how about I escort of back to your room and we continue this discussion in the morning."

It wasn't a choice or an offer. It was simply an order, and I didn't have the energy to argue. Hawke led me to my room, the tapping of her shoes contrasting with the pattering of my bare feet.

The door was still ajar from when I left and Hawke pushed it all the way open, giving me room to enter. She shut the door behind me, and I swore I heard her murmur something but I couldn't make out the words.

I hadn't realized how tired I was until I layed down on the bed and felt the fatigue finally creep into my head. The mattress was actually quite soft and it wasn't hard to fall asleep, since I was left with nothing but the thoughts I wouldn't let myself think.

* * *

The next morning came upon me slowly, with nothing more than light peeking through the drapes. I could feel the oddly soft texture of the bedding and last night hit me like a train. My tired brain had blocked out most of the encounter. I was desperately trying to remember what I had let slip, if anything at all.

I decided that there was no point chasing memories I didn't had I went to take a better look around the room. It was barely furnished, with only a bed, dresser, and closet. The light that awoke me was from the one drape that I pushed open last night.

One final look showed some clothes folded and sitting on the dresser, with a pair of boots on the floor in front of them. I walked over to find a note folded on top of the clothes, which appeared to be a red blouse with lacing down the front and a pair of brown pants made of some form of fabric that wasn't quite cotton.

The boots were leather and went halfway up my calf before folding over. All in all the outfit looked comfortable as was around, but I wasn't sure how well the clothes would fit. I carefully unfolded the note and found it was from Hawke.

I hope the clothes fit, I took my best guess. I do hope you'll join me for lunch today, I was intrigued by our discussion last night

M. Hawke

I surveyed my own outfit and decided I was ready to be out of this frilly white monstrosity, even if it meant ill-fitting clothes instead.

Undoing the ribbon on the front, it slipped off my shoulders and pooled around my feet. Glad to find I was still in my bra and panties, and grabbed the blouse off the top of the stack. It followed a similar pattern as the nightgown where you laced it up so it sat comfortably on your shoulders.

The pants had a similar comfortable fit, and I had to wonder who's clothes I was wearing. The boots were a little large, but not so big that they flopped around. I was able to comfortably wear most of the attire, and actually thought I looked pretty good.

My hair was tangled and I couldn't find anything resembling a brush, so I attempted to comb it out with my fingers. I wasn't happy with the tangled waves but it didn't look like a rats nest anymore.

I braced myself, afraid I would mess everything up, and left the quiet of my bedroom.


End file.
